Finding Me
by MegElizabeth
Summary: An english woman disappears. Who is she and why is so important to her captors and the CIA?
1. Default Chapter

I know that I'm in the process of another story called 'You Were Dead' and I'm still updating it, however, the idea for this story popped into my head the other day while between classes at the University. This story takes place immediately after the first few episodes of Season 2. Vaughn returned home safely...Syd never disappeared, the REAL Francie is alive, and Will is on the show. Also, Irina is still in CIA custody. It's a bit different and may not make sense initially, but I promise it will have a plot. ENJOY.

  
  


LOCATION: London, Deserted Hotel.

  


L. J. glanced at her watch, her demeanor growing more impatient. _He should be here by now_, she thought, gazing down the small corridor she was currently standing within.

All their meetings were like this. Instead of a normal social meeting, mini-golf, sight-seeing, movie-watching or the like, they met in cold, damp alleyways or dark condemned apartment buildings.

She was twenty-two years old, still attending school at Oxford. She was constantly observed by the public - that was generally the territory of being the daughter of a man of prestige such as her father. She was not entirely sure how she managed to escape to these rendevous unnoticed, nor was she sure how she had ever stumbled across a man like Alexander.

He was a beautiful man; of that she was certain. Blond hair framed a chiseled face resembling the works of famous sculptors. His lips, full and scrumptious, rarely formed a smile, but when they did, the effects were breathtaking. The light that surrounded his entire being almost drowned out the dark places in which their encounters took place. _Almost_.

He was a mystery - she did not even know his last name - or what he did for a living. These facts disturbed her, though it was most certainly the intrigue that inspired more meetings between them. She did not love him, nor did she pretend to - she did not know enough of him, quite simply. However, she enjoyed their exchange of banter, his pointed looks (those beautiful ice-blue eyes) and the debates that occurred between them on an assortment of topics.

It could be said that their meetings were quite restricted - they could only meet in certain locales, as stated before, however it was these 'stolen' moments that were the most liberating to L.J. Being the daughter of Michael James was stifling, to say the very least.

In broad daylight, L.J. was the perfect woman - well-rounded, intelligent, witty and beautiful. Her long flowing dark brown hair and fiery hazel eyes mirrored her personality. She was in her senior year at Oxford, majoring in English, planning to become a professor in the future.

In these moments with Alexander she was free to be herself. She was no longer the daughter of an ambassador. She was no longer a student with an excessively high grade point average. She was no longer a slave to her own inhibitions. Do not be confused - she was never intimate with this mystery man - she had strict morals that she never compromised. However, he had her heart, her emotions - he had her reeled in.

She was snapped out her thoughts when she heard footsteps on the floor, beyond her line of vision. He was here. Who else would be in this forsaken place? This knowledge was confirmed when he stepped around the corner. He smiled slightly, that glorious and devilishly lopsided smirk she had grown to love. She returned the smile, as he strode to her with confidence - she did not consider it a swagger, for he was not exactly arrogant - he was simply smarter and more beautiful than most - and he knew it.

"L.J," he said at last, kissing her outstretched hand, his voice soft.

"So nice to see you Alexander. I've been looking forward to this," she stated, her gaze never shifting from his own.

"As have I. Shall we?" he asked, placing a hand on the small of her back, gesturing to a closed door nearby. She only nodded, allowing him to guide her steps. He opened the door, revealing a dark, but well-furnished room, where they took seats on opposite side of the quarters. They sat in comfortable silence, both relaxed in arm chairs, gazing at each other.

"Alexander," she started, breaking the silence, "it's been a while since you contacted me." He only nodded. She continued, "Why not? You know that tonight is the ball at the embassy."

"Yes, I am quite aware. You know I've never forgotten anything."

"Yes," she answered. "You have an eerily photographic memory." He nodded again. This situation was beginning to arouse anger within her. She only wished he would come to a point.

"You still have not answered my question Alexander. Why tonight?" He smirked at her, which only irritated her more. Sensing this irritation, he stifled laughter. One thing could be said - she was startlingly beautiful when she was livid.

"All your questions will be answered tonight," he spoke softly, never missing a beat, "including who I am." Her eyes widened at this admission. This was strange - she had not acquired much knowledge of this man, but she knew he would never willingly offer information about himself.

Her level of fright only escalated when he lifted himself out of his chair, closing the distance between them. He hovered over her, his hands on the arms of her chair. She shivered as he lowered his face to within inches of her own; his breath warm on her face. He leaned into her tentatively, and his lips met her own as quickly at they removed their sweet kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for a few months, my sweet," he said huskily, "First and last kiss," he finished. Though this phrase frightened her, she also noted a trace of sadness within his own voice. A brief removal of the steely gaze of his eyes unmasked an expression she had never beheld - of love, longing. It was immediately replaced with a cold gaze, another expression she had never seen in his eyes.

"I'm sorry love," he spoke, somewhat forcefully before knocking L.J. unconscious.


	2. The Debrief

Glad you guys liked the first installment...don't be confused! All will make sense, I promise!

  


24 HOURS LATER...

CIA HEADQUARTERS, LOS ANGELES 

An exhausted Sydney Bristow checked her watch again, sighing at the realization that a debrief was approaching. She loved fieldwork and lived for the adrenaline that was inspired by death-defying missions. 

She _hated_ debriefs.

Sure, that could be attributed to the well-known fact that she resented, no...loathed Kendall. Or it could be said that debriefs were incredibly boring. Either way, she was not looking forward to it.

She could not escape it. Her spirits rose somewhat when she noticed Michael Vaughn out of the corner of her eye - dressed to perfection, as always. He smiled at her, melting her heart, as he fell in step next to her. His shoulder rubbed against her own, sending a sensation through her body, and unbeknownst to her, it went through his as well.

This did not surprise either of them. They could only gaze at each other for so long. They had never even kissed, barely touched, besides the occasional tearful hug. But touch was not really necessary to fall in love, and that was what had occurred between the handler and his asset: love.

As they took their seats on their respective sides of the room, they shared one last glance - which did not go unnoticed by Jack Bristow. He only scowled. All thoughts were interrupted by Kendall's voice.

"As you know, Michael James is the ambassador in England." Heads nodded as he paused, "What you do not know, is that Michael James is a descendant of Milo Rambaldi," he continued.

Sydney stifled laughter. _Here we go again_, she thought. Kendall continued.

"He had artifacts that he inherited in safe located in his office at the embassy."

"Had?" Jack interrupted.

"Last night they were stolen," Kendall said.

"Do we have any leads?" Sydney inquired.

"Records show that access to the safe was granted through fingerprint identification."

"Who has access?" Vaughn asked.

"Michael James, obviously, his wife, who was in New York at the time, and his daughter Lydia, who never surfaced at the embassy's ball last night."

"Is it possible Lydia stole the items?" Sydney asked.

"We are not ruling it out, however it is not likely. The girl has no history of theft or crime of any sort."

"Then what?" Sydney asked

"We believed that she was apprehended and forced to access the safe," Kendall began..

"Forgive me for interrupting, Agent Kendall, but why the continued use of the past tense?" Jack asked.

"Our suspicions were confirmed with video from security cameras placed in James' office," at this answer, he displayed pictures on white screen.

"Sark," Sydney whispered at the sight of the all-to-familiar blonde. She hid a smirk. Was he everywhere?

"Who's the woman with him?" Vaughn asked.

"Lydia James," Kendall answered, as all the other agents exchanged shocked glances.

"So what's the plan? Do we know what our next move is?" Sydney asked.

"We've tracked them to a remote location in Rome, a hotel that Sark's father owned. We want you, Agent Bristow and Agent Vaughn, to go to this location, posing as a couple. We want you to capture Sark, so we can return Lydia to her home."

Vaughn and Sydney shared a surprised glance, followed by nods in unison. They were all dismissed from the room, and Vaughn motioned to Sydney to follow him. She fell into step behind him as he led her to his desk. They both sat in silence for a few moments until Vaughn spoke.

"Syd, this is going to be awkward. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, since we're friends..." his voice was inaudible as her thoughts shouted, _See! He only thinks of you as a friend!_ She shook her head, snapping herself out of her thoughts, and silencing him as well.

"Vaughn, I won't feel uncomfortable. We're both adults...we're both professionals. I don't know about you, but I'm up for the challenge." She smiled, her gaze burning a hole in his heart. He only nodded.

"Okay. I'm glad we cleared all of that up. We leave in two hours. I'll meet you at the airport in an hour, Mrs. Lewis," he spoked, placing emphasis on the new name. He smiled as she stood up, and watched her as she walked away. 

_Oh man_, he thought. _How am I going to pull this off?_

  



End file.
